


Heart of Glass, Mind of Stone

by breathewords



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: And like one vague mention of shower sex, And the show never acknowledges this, Angst tag, Betty cannot possibly be okay, Cheryl and Toni and Kevin on the side, Comfort/Angst, Coping, Do I even need to include that anymore?, It's always angst, Minor mention of panic attack, Post-Episode: s3e22, So I do, oh yeah aNGST, post-season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 11:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathewords/pseuds/breathewords
Summary: A look at the Core Four coping with the aftermath of being chased through a forest by psychopaths.OrBetty just saw her dad get shot in the head and found out her mom and sister disappeared and she is Not Okay but has great friends.





	Heart of Glass, Mind of Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Because I do not like how the show always skips over Betty coping! So much shit happens to her! And then it's just like... smash cut to her being fine a week later! Also what else am I supposed to do between seasons? 
> 
> Title from "Lovely" by Billie Eilish and Khalid.

Betty practically has to be carried out of The Farm compound that horrible morning. When the sun rises higher in the sky and Kevin delivers the news he was chosen to convey, she reaches her breaking point. First she was nearly lobotomized at the hands of a cult leader, then _purchased_ and chased through a forest with her friends, then made to watch as Archie was beaten with in an inch of his life. As her best friend drank poison to save her. As her fake brother wrapped his hands around her boyfriend’s neck. As her own hands fired a gun at her father. As he was shot point blank in the head after she spared him.

So yeah, when she finds out her mother and sister have disappeared, never to be seen again according to Kevin, she loses it a little. She wraps her arms around Jughead’s neck and hides her face against his shoulder and does not let go for a very long time.

“What now?” she hears Cheryl ask as they all stand aimlessly in front of a delusional Kevin. She tries to tune out the conversation around her as she thinks about the speed at which her life — all of their lives — has deteriorated.

“Go,” Jughead says forcefully.

“You don’t get to give her orders anymore,” Toni says. “She’s a Poison, not a Serpent.

“Toni, I’m not telling you as the Serpent King. I’m asking you as a friend. You and Cheryl get Kevin out of here. Get him back to his dad. And go down to the sheriff’s station and wait for my dad, too. Tell him what happened. Please.”

Toni wants to argue. It’s in her nature. She hates being told what to do, especially by Jughead. But she’s exhausted from the night she’s had, and she can only imagine how Jughead and Co. feel, so she takes Cheryl’s hand and they coax Kevin to his feet and head back to town.

Betty listens to them leave, then revels in the silence around her as she focuses on the feeling of Jughead’s hand rubbing circles on her back.

“We should get out of here, Betts,” he tells her gently a few minutes later.

She doesn’t know what to say. She can’t say anything. Logically, she knows she can’t stand here clinging to him forever. She has to move. She has to move on. Like she always does. So she unwinds her arms from his neck and takes a couple of steps toward the door. A second later, she finds herself sliding down the doorframe as her throat tightens and she’s assaulted with a fresh round of tears.

Her fist pounds the ground once, twice, then Jughead and Veronica and Archie are kneeling down next to her. _Damnit_ , she thinks. She’s stronger than this. She should stand up. But she’s already crying on the floor, so what’s the point, really? Dignity be damned. This time when she reaches her arms out, she’s rewarded with the embrace of not only Jughead, but Archie and Veronica, too.

“It’s okay, B,” Veronica soothes. “We got you.”

Jughead cups her head and brings it to rest on his shoulder. Archie takes her hand and aimlessly starts to mimic thumb wrestling with her, like they did when they were kids. It keeps her from digging her nails into her palms. She doesn’t know how long it takes for her to stop crying and catch her breath, but when she does, she notices a dull ache in nearly every inch of her body, from her head to her heart to her heels.

“Let me take you home, okay?” Jughead says.

She wants to say she doesn’t have a home. She wants to say her home is his now, and she can’t stay there forever. She wants to say his dad will need to interrogate them, and she’s not ready to answer questions about her parents. But she’s so overwhelmingly tired that she just nods and lets her friends stand around her, then pull her to her feet with them.

Jughead and Archie each keep an arm around her waist while Veronica strides ahead to call a car. She shudders as they make their way through the halls of the former Sisters of Quiet Mercy, but she manages to mumble a “thank you” to each of them as they stand on the curb and wait. To Veronica, who’s likely ready to faint herself after consuming a significant amount of poison. To Archie, who will certainly have to stop by the hospital for stitches right away. And to Jughead, whom she knows will stay right next to her for however long she needs. She doesn’t know what she’d do without them.

None of them have the mental capacity to be surprised when Smithers pulls up a few minutes later. Archie groans as he lowers himself into the backseat, then the rest of them press in after him despite the fact that they don’t really fit. He calls his mom and she insists upon meeting him at the ER, so they drop him off there, then make their way to the Cooper/Jones house.

“You can come with us if you want,” Jughead offers, knowing full well he wouldn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts if he were Veronica.

“That’s alright. I should go shower. See my mom. Maybe take a nap. I’ll call you guys later this afternoon though, okay?”

“Roger that,” Jughead says, then hauls Betty out of the car and up the front steps.

Thankfully, Jellybean’s already gotten on the school bus by the time they make it in the door, but FP is there in the kitchen waiting.

“Jughead, thank god,” he says when his son steps through the door.

“Did you talk to Cheryl and Toni?” Jughead asks as his father embraces both him and Betty.

“They came by,” FP confirms.

“Well then I assume you have a busy day ahead of you.”

“That I do. You two get some rest, but come by the station this afternoon.”

Jughead nods grimly, then leads Betty up the stairs, her hand still encased in his.

* * *

Her room is still the same. Knowing how reluctant she was to move out, to pawn all the furniture and trinkets she grew up with at her mother’s insistence, Jughead ensured her she should keep everything in tact when he moved in. It made sense. He didn’t really bring much with him when his mom bought the house on Elm Street, so he’s living as a guest in Betty’s plush-pink wonderland. Her tattered ballgown matches the rosy accents all over her room perfectly. She wants to burn it all down, and them with it. Romeo and Juliet, indeed.

She finds herself in Jughead’s arms again, knowing by the breaks and cracks in his voice as he speaks that he’s finally letting himself feel the full effects of what happened to them last night, too.

“God, I’m so glad you’re okay, Betty,” he says into her hair.

She says nothing.

“Alive, at least. I was terrified. I should have done something. Called the Serpents before I left my phone, or my father, anyone. But I didn’t want to drag anyone else into this, and I thought you were safe at the Farm.”

She holds him tighter because she’s still at a loss for words. She knows if she opens her mouth she’ll cry again. She bites through her lip instead. When Jughead pulls back and presses a quick kiss to her mouth, he tastes blood.

“Say something,” he begs. “I don’t know how to help you.”

“You can’t,” she says. A tear runs down her cheek and she sits on the edge of her bed, fisting her hair in frustration.

“Hey, Betty, don’t do that,” Jughead says, sitting down next to her and taking her hands in his. “I’d be worried if you weren’t upset, after what you just saw. After what we all did.”

She nods, swallowing another round of sobs resolutely.

“What can I do?” Jughead asks, caring as ever with her, but in over his head for sure.

“I need…” Her voice breaks and she has to try again. “The dress,” she says. “I want it off.”

“Right,” he says. “Of course.”

She stands and he slides the zipper down her back gently, only to have her practically tear the thing off her arms. Despite everything they’ve just been through, his eyes darken ever so slightly at the sight of her in her signature cotton bra and underwear — a matching set, of course. She reaches out her hand and he takes it.

“Shower with me,” she says.

He nods his agreement and starts shucking his clothes as he follows her into the bathroom. She kicks off her undergarments as they wait for the water to heat up, then looks at him expectantly. He’s not sure what to do. He’s not sure what the best course of action is for either of them right now. She’s standing there traumatized, tiny cuts up and down her arms and legs from their sprint through the forest at dawn, and he’s got deep bruises blooming in the shape of Chic’s hands on his neck. But she still looks beautiful, and he still wants her — because he always wants her — so when she rolls her eyes lovingly at his hesitation and backs him into the countertop, he can’t help but kiss her in earnest. Her lips still taste faintly of blood, and he wonders in the back of his mind if it’s wise to be kissing her so soon after she ingested poison. He’s sure if that were a real risk, Archie and Veronica would be dead already.

She lets her mind go blank the way it only does when she’s with Jughead. Lets herself focus on the feeling of his mouth on her skin as he kisses his way down her torso. On the soothing noise of the water spilling from the shower head. On the clean, fresh smell of his store-brand body wash that she recognizes as his signature scent. When his tongue finds her clit, her muscles tense but her mind relaxes, and everything else falls away.

* * *

The Jones household is not home to very many teabags, a luxury Betty sorely misses when she gets out of the shower, wraps herself in her robe — which still hangs on the back of the bathroom door — and collapses in bed without further ado. She’s exhausted. Her feet ache from running, her hands tremble, and her head pounds. Jughead closes the curtains and flicks off the lights, plunging them into near-darkness, but she still can’t fall asleep. Every time Betty opens her eyes and looks up, she sees Jughead wide awake too, sitting up rim-rod straight against the headboard. He doesn’t even look like he’s trying to go to sleep.

“Juggie,” she whines, drawing out the last vowel in his nickname like a petulant child.

He looks down at her after a half-second pause, clearly lost in thought. Betty can’t imagine they were pleasant ones, but she hopes they were anyway.

“Can I borrow your phone?” she asks. She no longer has one after her stint at the Farm. Probably for the best.

He grabs it from the charger and hands it over. Sure enough, their group chat with Archie and Veronica is lighting up. She doesn’t bother responding, just throws open the blinds and raps on the window until she gets Archie’s attention.

“Pop’s?” she mouths.

He nods his response and she turns back to Jughead, who’s looking at her like he’s waiting for an explanation.

“Not like any of us can sleep, anyway,” she says.

“Fair enough, Cooper.”

They change — her into skinny jeans and a tank top with a cardigan, him into his typical “S” t-shirt — and they both feel a little more normal. She runs a brush through her hair, which is matted from her tossing and turning, and then they’re out the door. Archie’s waiting for them on the stoop.

“Veronica’s meeting us there,” he says by way of greeting. He’s got bandages in various places — large gauze pads on his arms where they peak out from under his short-sleeved shirt, smaller butterfly bandages on his face, tape all over his hands and knuckles — and his arm is in a sling.

“Jesus, Jughead,” he says as they start a slow march toward Pop’s.

“What?”

“Your neck.”

Betty notices his bruises for the first time and winces as she stops in her tracks and the blood drains from her face. They bloomed much more in the hour they spent in bed. She hates seeing him so visibly hurt, especially after last year.

“I’m fine, Betts. Just a couple of bruises. I’ve had worse. And besides, look at Archie.”

“That doesn’t help,” she mumbles, but resumes walking.

“How do you feel?” she asks Archie.

“Like I was run over by a semi. You?”

Betty just shrugs before settling on, “tired.” Her eyes are wide and glossy, unblinking. Her hands are in fists at her side. Every step feels like she’s wading through molasses. Like there’s cotton in her head. Like it’s impossible to move. Impossible to think. She can’t believe they’re just going to Pop’s. Like it’s any other… she doesn’t even know what day of the week it is. A school day, certainly. Does anyone she knows even go to school anymore? They’re all either in the Farm or in a gang.

She doesn’t realize they’ve reached Pop’s until she’s brought out of her thoughts by the feeling of Veronica’s arm around her shoulders.

“Milkshakes?” the other girl asks as they walk in.

“Do you even have to ask?” Jughead says.

“Perfection. I’ll get them. Go grab our booth?”

They try to pretend everything is normal for as long as they can, but after about an hour it gets progressively more difficult. The diner starts to fill for lunch when noon hits, and the more people that come in the more sideways glances they receive. It’s not that they think everyone knows what happened last night; there’s essentially no news outlet in the town anymore, although gossip does travel fast in Riverdale. It’s more that Archie and Jughead are both visibly battered and Betty and Veronica are quite literally falling asleep at the table and they’ve run out of things to talk about that aren’t tragic. Eventually, they just give into it. They all order strong coffees and Archie brings up Penelope Blossom and the flood gates burst open.

“I just can’t believe she’s been puppet-mastering this whole thing! The Black Hood. Gryphons and Gargoyles. I get that she’d be pissed at our parents, but to try to kill us…”

“It makes perfect sense,” Jughead says. “I should have figured it out sooner.”

“And I should have figured out what Edgar Evernever was up to sooner,” Betty mumbles around her straw. “But I didn’t. And now my mom and Polly…” She trails off and Jughead wraps his arm around her shoulders.

“Betts, we don’t know what really happened to them. Kevin… he was delusional. We’ll find them.”

“How are we gonna do that?”

“Maybe it’s time we go talk to my dad?”

Betty shrugs her agreement and the four of them trudge out of Pop’s, maintaining a slow pace all the way to the sheriff’s station. The only one of them who’s not bone-weary is Veronica, who seems to be running purely on hatred for her father and determination to sort out what being essentially parentless means for her financial situation and various assets. She’s practically humming with energy, and Archie can’t take his eyes off her. Or his hands.

“So… you two are back together?” Jughead asks, feeling a little uncomfortable but knowing Betty won’t bring it up herself. Not right now, at least. He’s not sure she’s even noticed their PDA.

“Yeah, bro,” Archie says, cracking a real smile for the first time that day.

“I thought Archiekins here was a thing of my past, but turns out I can’t shake him that easy,” Veronica says.

Betty continues to stare at her feet. No one really knows what to do about her silence. Sure, they’re all a little traumatized, but no more than what they’re used to. Betty, on the other hand, seems absolutely harrowed.

“We don’t have to do this yet,” Jughead says softly to her.

She finally looks up.

“No, Juggie. I want to. If it’ll help find my mom and Polly, I have to.”

When he takes her hand, it’s sticky with blood. She’s too distracted to care, or even to notice.

Jughead, ever the storyteller, carries their narrative when they sit down with FP and one of his deputies. Archie jumps in to insist Penelope’s forces were so large they couldn’t all have been locals. Veronica wonders out loud how she had unregulated access to such an impressive collection of poison all these years. The three of them — Jughead, Archie, and Veronica — do their best to recount Hal Cooper’s murder accurately without sending Betty spiraling even more. Despite their best efforts, they fail. By the time their story has been told, she’s sweating and shaking and hearing “Lollipop” play in her head on repeat. She does managed to catch FP’s one piece of good news, followed immediately by the news she was expecting but not quite ready to hear.

“Well, we got Chic locked up, at least,” he says. “We still don’t know where Penelope Blossom is. Or your mother and sister, for that matter, Betty. In fact… I think that’s above even my pay grade now.”

She doesn’t ask what he means. Just shudders involuntarily and says a silent prayer they’ll be dismissed sooner rather than later.

“Can I get you a glass of water, Betty?” FP asks. “You’re white as a sheet.”

“B,” Veronica says with concern after a beat of silence. When she lays her hand on Betty’s knee, Betty jumps and trembles harder.

“We should go,” Jughead says immediately. “She hasn’t gotten any sleep.”

FP glances skeptically at his son, but nods once and rises from his desk, indicating they’re free to leave.

“B, we’re gonna get you home now, okay?” Veronica tries. “You’ll feel better after you sleep a little.”

Betty nods like she’s heard but doesn’t move to stand. Veronica’s not sure Betty even really understood what she said.

“Maybe we should take her to the hospital,” Archie says quietly to Jughead. “Or at least the school nurse? She really doesn’t look good.”

“Let’s just get her home first, Arch.”

Before either of them can move to help her up, Veronica abruptly raises her hand to stop them.

“Just… just give her a minute to breath.”

Sure enough, when Jughead comes around to squat in front of Betty, he can see she’s breathing like she just ran a marathon.

“Veronica…” he starts.

“It’ll pass. Don’t touch her.”

“Her hands,” he protests. They’re in fists and her knuckles are white. There’s bright red blood staining the thighs of her light jeans. Still, Jughead stays the course and within a few minutes Betty’s breathing slows.

“I’m sorry,” she finally chokes out. “I’m sorry. I’ll get it together. I think I’m just tired.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. Let’s get out of here. We all need some rest. Let’s just call it a day.”

They walk back to Elm Street together, Betty pressed against Jughead’s side but with her hands still in fists.

“So do we just… go to school tomorrow?” Archie asks.

“Guess so,” Betty says, tone fairly even. It’s a relief. “It’ll be fine.”

“That’s the spirit,” Veronica says as they turn onto Elm. “I, for one, certainly can’t make it home to the Pembroke. Archiekins? Mind if I crash with you?”

Archie nods enthusiastically and Veronica and Betty hug goodbye before going their separate ways.

“You hungry?” Jughead asks when they walk into his house.

“We just ate at Pop’s,” Betty says, almost smiling.

He shrugs, grabs a bag of chips from the kitchen, then follows her upstairs. In their room he opens the bag, takes a huge handful of chips, chews, and swallows before turning to her.

“Let me see,” he says.

“I…” she stutters, still embarrassed about her bad habit and nervous breakdown.

“It’s just us here,” he says. “I love you. Let me help.”

She doesn’t flinch when he crosses the room in two quick strides, so he takes her hands in his and one by one unfurls her nails from her palms until his ten fingers are locked with hers.

“We need to wash your hands, okay?”

She nods and lets him lead her to the bathroom, but not before dropping their locked hands to their waists and pulling him in for a kiss. Fingers still threaded together, he guides her to the sink and runs the warm water. She washes the blood down the sink while he grabs a tube of antiseptic and some loose bandaids. With her hands taken care of, they both collapse in bed.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he says. “We’re alive. All of us. That’s what’s important. Everything else will work itself out.”

She curls into his side and closes her eyes, willing herself to believe him.


End file.
